


Animals.

by scibfs (bearprincess)



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-27
Updated: 2012-07-27
Packaged: 2017-11-10 20:50:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/470548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearprincess/pseuds/scibfs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite Bruce's protests, Tony persuades him to have a drink. Then, "Forbe's Sexiest CEO" reveals his attraction to Bruce, who then shares his own feelings. Drunken sex ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Animals.

"I feel disgusting." Tony is taking off his Italian shoes and hand-knit socks, sliding back slowly into the plush sofa. He turns to Bruce with an off-hand smile. "I haven't showered in like, a day and a half."

Bruce actually laughs a bit. It makes Tony sit back up, and hell if he's not watching his pretty lips part over his somehow comfortingly crooked teeth. "Tony Stark: A True American Tragedy."

Tony takes a half-hearted smack at him and laughs too, happy to have someone to pull him back to ground level. Tony messes with his cuff links now, pulling them out as he gives Bruce a side glance. He looks tired, but he always looks tired. World-weary is a better word, maybe; either way it suits him. Tony is presently more interested in how genuinely amused he is and how much that's making his dark eyes shine.

"What's so funny?" he says with his best incredulousness. "It makes me feel like an animal when I don't shower."

Bruce chuckles once more and stirs his tea. The tiny spoon in his broad hand looks incredibly comical, and so does the fact that he actually picks the saucer up with the cup as he takes a sip. "It's just that I didn't exactly shower twice a day in Calcutta. I thought you were in a third-world country for a while, or something like that."

Tony is quiet, now loosening his tie. He considers pouring himself a drink. "Well, they treated me like an animal. I was a hostage," Tony reminds him. It's quiet between both of them after that; maybe Tony isn't being quite fair. Bruce is looking down at his lap and Tony would feel guilty but he shouldn’t have brought it up.

“Sorry,” Bruce says, and he clears his throat. The only sound for a while is the gentle chink of porcelain as Bruce continues to stir his tea. Suddenly, he’s smiling again and he laughs at something privately.

“Come on. What are you thinking about? I hate it when people laugh at their own jokes.”

Bruce opens his mouth and shakes his head like he’s embarrassed to say it. Tony elbows him a little. “I was just thinking that animals can at least clean themselves.”

Tony narrows his eyes at him and leans back, stealing Bruce’s tea and taking a sip. Chamomile, non-caffeinated. Abomination. He sets it back and makes a face as he crosses his legs. “Well, my tongue only reaches so far.” He grins. “Believe me, I’ve tried.” Tony grins broader like he’s proud of being lewd. And then Tony looks at Bruce and that grin curls up to his damn ears. “Are you _blushing_? Oh my God, you are. You look like Molly Ringwald in Sixteen Candles you're so red. It’s alright to be sexually attracted to me, there’s at least a 95 percent chance—“

“Please.” Bruce doesn’t say anything else and he just slumps back, turning redder by the second. Tony’s not usually this mean unless he’s drunk or he’s right. He watches Bruce rub his thick fingers into his temples like he’s nursing a migraine and for a split-second he’s worried he pushed things too far. Bruce sighs before he turns to look at Tony again. “Alright. You got me. You figured it out.” The back of his hand splays over his forehead and he bats his eyelashes at Tony and grins. “I just can’t resist you,” Bruce says in literally the worst Southern accent Tony has ever heard, like worse than Nic Cage in Con Air.

Tony’s eyes narrow again. “Oh no. We’re not playing this game.”

“What game?”

“I can’t tell if you’re serious,” Tony finally admits.

“No way.”

“God, stop that. I hate you.”

“No, you don’t. You like that you can’t figure it out. It's like an equation to you, isn't it? You just have to know all the variables, like you said to me in the helicarrier." He pauses, his characteristic slow talk that makes Tony hang on the edge of his metaphorical seat. "You love when the variables aren't easy to find."

Tony stares at him for a long time and Bruce stares right back at him. Out of thin air Tony pulls out his patented Stark smile. He knows this dance. “How about a drink?”

“I don’t drink." He put his hands up. "I know what you're going to say, it’s not the other guy.” A flash of his characteristic apologetic smile that makes Tony want to jump him. “I just hate the taste.”

Tony smirks and slides his hands to the end of his knees to stand up. “In your assuredly meager alcoholic exploitations have you tried anything besides Coors Light or Natty Ice? I mean I know you were a college student for a long time, Bruce, but there’s a whole world you’re missing here. And hey! I’m a damn good bartender if I say so myself; welcome to Stark Tower.” He’s already standing at the liquor cabinet pouring himself a scotch. “What are you having?” Tony sees Bruce open his mouth like he’s going to argue again but he doesn’t, or rather, knows he can’t.

Bruce rubs his temples again and gives a sigh of resignation. "I don't know. Something sweet, maybe, just. Easy on the liquor, okay, Tony?" Tony nods and thinks for a second. Time to play How Well Can You Hide the Actual Alcohol Content. He taps his fingers on the side of his glass and purses his lips. Daiquiri. He has to go to the fridge for that one and pull out the blender but it doesn’t take him too long, and he hands it to Bruce with a smile not unlike that of a proud child showing off a creation. He even puts an umbrella on it.

Bruce takes it and frowns and takes the umbrella off. He looks around for a second before setting it in Tony’s tumbler of scotch instead and smirking… playfully? Playfully. Tony smirks back and tugs the umbrella back out of his drink. “Don’t contaminate my perfectly good scotch with your girly shit, alright?” He tosses the umbrella on the coffee table. Bruce rolls his eyes and wraps his lips around the straw. Tony notes just how those thick lips pucker and wow goddamn him. Tony strains not to stare and ends up coughing into his fist.

Tony could swear Bruce is doing this on purpose. About a fourth of that drink is gone already and he hasn’t even lifted his head up yet. “Slow down, tiger, or you’re going to make yourself sick. And I am sure as hell not cleaning up after you.” He wonders if Bruce is trying to make himself relax by drinking that quickly and the thought is kind of cute and his personal favorite, self-flattering.

“It’s good, though. Just like a smoothie.” It turned out not that alcoholic in the end; just a splash of vodka sweetened with a splash of schnapps. There’s already a ruddy flush on Bruce’s cheeks, though, and his eyes are a little duller. “S’ good.”

“You really don’t drink, do you?” he asks with a laugh, finishing his glass of scotch and getting up for another. “Sure you don’t need water or something? For a big guy like you, you sure are a lightweight.”

“I’m fine. You didn’t make more, did you? I’d like another one if it’s not too much trouble.” Tony’s eyes crinkle up from his smile and he ever so subtly uses Bruce’s knee to pick himself back up off the couch, hand lingering a bit longer than necessary. In fact he had made more, and he fixes Bruce another and sets it on the table for him.

One and a half daiquiris later and Dr. Banner is considerably more animated than he was before. It makes Tony smile as he talks about building a new mini-computer out of scratch while he was off being a government fugitive somewhere, complete with screwing motions. Usually he wouldn’t be one for listening but loosening Bruce up was a great idea. He’s a good story teller a little bit tipsy, and Tony loves how his dark eyes are flashing and crinkling with excitement in his alcohol-induced mania.

“You’re really hot, you know that?” Tony says, smiling at him. Bruce stops mid-sentence to look at him.

“… Thanks.” Instantly he’s that reserved man Tony met for the first time, and his ears are tinged with pink again. Tony resists the urge to pinch his cheeks, but just barely. Bruce looks down at his lap again. “You’re uh. Not bad-looking either.”

“’Not bad-looking’? Really? That’s unacceptable. I’ve been Forbes’ Sexiest CEO five years running, how’s that for ‘not bad-looking’?”

Bruce laughs again, genuinely, and turns back to Tony. “Okay. You are definitely handsome.”

Tony scoffs. “Handsome is something mothers call their sons before prom. Call me hot. Say it. It’s not like you’d be the only one or something.”

Bruce sighs and pulls at his ear. “… Alright. You’re hot.” He rubs his cheek with one of his big palms and looks away. “Quoted on the cover of People magazine next month—Bruce Banner says Tony Stark is hot.”

Tony waves that last bit away. “Don’t make jokes. Not your thing. Besides, even if I made you say it you still meant it.” At this Bruce bites his lip and hides in his big glass of water instead of saying anything. Which says more than enough, really. “People magazine is a piece of shit; what a terrible example.”

Bruce actually laughs a little and turns to look at Tony, his big brown puppy eyes blinking slowly. Wow Tony can almost taste his breath he’s so close. Does Bruce notice he’s this close? Apparently yes; Bruce’s too-sweet, thick, sexy daiquiri lips are on his but just long enough for a taste before he breaks it again and pulls back. Tony is left kind of leaned over in mid-air with his eyes still closed. When Bruce laughs he has the distinct feeling it’s directed at him.

“You're screwing with me,” he says. It isn't a question. He's slipping back away from Tony.

“No. Nnnononono, I’m not; this is good. A little chaste, maybe, but hey I can understand being out of practice. Well. I can at least pretend to understand—“

Bruce grabs his face and kisses him harder and hell, it makes his eyebrows rise. Tony pushes him back against the couch and their teeth clack together because it’s rushed and awkward but something about that is really sexy, too. Tony was dead-on about Bruce being out of practice. His hands still have a death grip on his face and Tony gently pries them off, pressing them against his chest, sides, back, and ass in that order. And Bruce, thank God for his off-the-charts problem solving skills, squeezes his ass nice and slow. His broad hands cup him perfectly and Bruce tilts his head into the kiss and squeezes it again at the same time. Tony wants to throw him a party for being such a fast learner.

When Bruce pulls him forward and their hips snap together, both of them groan and stop kissing to pant into each other’s mouths. “Tony…” Oh no, here it comes, the self-doubt Tony had been expecting two ass squeezes ago. “God, I haven’t been this turned on in years…” Tony smiles. Even the best make mistakes sometimes. He rubs the outside of Bruce’s pants, the outline of his cock throbbing in his palm, and licks his lips watching Bruce’s eyes get wide and blown-out. Shit, that’s sexy. Bruce’s eternal 5 o’ clock shadow grazes his face as he leans in to kiss his neck.

“Your pulse is pounding, doc. I can taste it,” he says, dragging his tongue up his jugular. He feels a smirk tug up the corners of his mouth when he coaxes a breathy keen from that pretty, fuckable throat. Bruce is taking deep breaths through his nose now; yoga breaths, Tony realizes, which only makes him smirk wider. “Is this okay? Should I slow down?” He’s unbuttoning and unzipping Bruce’s pants even as he asks the question.

Bruce takes another breath and Tony lets him, not touching him at all now as Bruce’s head rolls back on the couch. “I have control.” Tony wasn’t worried about that. He knew that, and he scrunches his nose in a small bout of annoyance before he drops to his knees in front of Bruce.

“Damn right you do, big guy,” Tony says over his boxers and the way he shudders is so damn satisfying. Bruce’s hands are stiff, frozen in the air and Tony pulls them to the back of his head. Then they’re kneading the back of his skull, tugging his hair just a little, though that might have been accidental. He half-hopes it wasn’t. His eyes flash up to his face. Bruce is trying to chew through his lip and his eyebrows are knit so hard that thick, vertical lines appear between them. He’s so tense, and aside from the kneading of his fingers on his skull Bruce is like a deep-breathing statue.

Tony pulls back a little and takes off his shirt. “That better?” Bruce massages his shoulders and nods, his breathing a little less fish-out-of-water like. He’s even smiling as his fingers thread through Tony’s hair.

“Just. Go slow. Only request.” It’s in Tony’s nature to want to do the exact opposite but he nods anyway, and with his teeth he pulls down Bruce’s boxers. The gasp he pulls from Bruce with that move makes him grin. Tony generally thinks a cock is a cock, but it’s still really nice when there’s one right in front of him, and so he marvels at it while he has the chance. Nice and thick, exactly what he wants in his mouth. When he looks up Bruce is swallowing and shifting, and his blunt nails dig into Tony’s scalp to pull him forward. Tony kisses up the length of his cock and smiles against it, eyes glancing up sideways.

“Thought you wanted slow,” he says, teasing his lips on the side of his cock. Bruce shudders and pulls his hair again, which makes his eyes roll back. After that Bruce is eying him in disbelief. “I like that, the hair-pulling. Not a show—“ Before he can explain his sexual preferences Bruce is pulling his hair to get him back to his cock and god, he almost resents him for being so smart. He puts a hand up to the base and wraps his lips around him, broad, slow strokes of his tongue as requested. Bruce is huffing and leaning back and if Tony isn’t careful he might actually melt into that couch.

With a flick of his tongue against the head of his cock Bruce is tugging his hair again, yanking him further down his cock and almost making him gag. Tony starts bobbing his head and Bruce _growls_ , actually growls, and fuck if Tony’s heard anything sexier in a long time. His cheeks are hollowed as he sucks down to his hand and Bruce’s fingers twist in his hair, making his scalp burn and keeping him at an achingly slow rhythm. God he wants to go faster, or rather he wants Bruce to make him go faster, and the thought makes him moan around his thick cock.

“Tony—Fuck—“ Getting Bruce to curse was somewhere on his mental checklist for this, and he smirks around his cock and lets his eyes linger on Bruce’s face. He’s already bright red and his jaw is clenched so tight Tony swears he can hear his teeth grinding together. The next time his fingers pull his hair Tony moans and can’t stand it, frantically unzipping his pants enough to get a hand around his cock and soothing it with hard, fast jerks. The hand around Bruce’s cock moves to his thigh instead and he holds it to brace himself, fighting Bruce’s grip on his hair to suck his cock harder, faster, making himself gag and touch his nose to the pouch of Bruce’s stomach.

Bruce moans, that throaty, ready-to-come moan Tony has been listening for, and he hollows his cheeks again, lewd slurps and pants and groans the only sounds for a few more seconds. “Tony!” Fuck. He must have been thinking about this for a while to shout his name while coming. Tony grips his thigh and Bruce holds the back of his neck with both hands as he shudders and spills down his throat. Hot, white hot, and he doesn’t stop for a good thirty seconds, making Tony take harsh breaths through his nose as Bruce seizes up and finally collapses back on the couch.

“Bruce—please God, Bruce, touch me—“ His voice is coarse from having his throat fucked and jesus he loves how that sounds to himself. Bruce yanks him up from under his armpits and right into his lap, and Tony’s eyes widen once Bruce’s big, calloused hand is making lazy strokes on his cock. Bruce has got the smuggest post-orgasm grin Tony’s ever seen and it pisses him off—which of course makes him hotter. Tony’s head falls forward into the crook of Bruce’s shoulder and he’s kissing his neck and keeps saying things, nonsense things, and Bruce laughs somewhere between lust and disbelief against his ear. His hand wraps tighter, jerks faster, and Tony pants against his neck and hisses through his teeth. He comes over Bruce’s hand and on his shirt, and he rolls off his lap.

It’s quiet for a while. Both of them are panting and are too busy not looking at each other to say things. Bruce pulls his boxers back up and zips his pants up but Tony doesn’t even bother moving for a while.

Tony rubs his eyes. “... I got your shirt dirty.”

Bruce huffs something like a laugh and finally turns his head to him. “Tony, you bought me a closet full.” Tony smiles as Bruce’s lips smack on his cheek and it’s unforgivably virginal and doofusy but definitely Bruce, and Tony loves it. “So. You and Pepper.”

“Open.”

“Thought so.” Well, hell, that was supposed to be a fight, wasn’t it? But Bruce wasn’t as dumb with people as he liked to think himself to be. “I mean… you both travel so much and you’re, you know, you…” One of Bruce’s big arms snakes around his shoulders and pulls him closer but Tony tries to wriggle away.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, smiling as he says it and Bruce just rolls his eyes and kisses him; lazy, safe, warm. Tony breaks the kiss kind of reluctantly and this time Bruce is the one left leaning for more. “Seriously. Shower. Please.” Bruce’s eyes dart to the side and he his tongue flicks over his lips. Totally unfair, by the way. Tony slides off his lap and heads out of the living room, stretching his arms over his head. “Coming?”

He bets Bruce has never moved so quickly in his life, smiling as his big arms wrap around his waist and toddles behind him.

Already he’s too used to this. And his smile gets wider.


End file.
